Just as the service began, an alarm went off; every cell phone in the room buzzing with a ‘missing elder’ alert. As the speakers began and the the alarm continued to sound again from pockets and purses, serval people laughed and said, “You know, that is just the kind of thing Ron would do.”
The community memorial for Ron Davis was held on August 2, 2026 at Jackson Market, and those who attended shared their memories of a dedicated professor, a deeply involved parent and a fun-loving friend. Davis who died on May 19, 2026 at the age of 83, had wry sense of humor and a gift for pushing people to do their best.
Davis had been a daily presence at Jackson Market, sitting out at the front tables, for many years. He was known for reading the papers, discussing the news, and digging deeper into philosophy, politics and life. The community at the market became a third chapter of his life, after his family and his work.
His daughter Stacey Davis reflected on what a great father he had been, and his grandchildren told stories of his sense of play. ‘Larry the Leprechaun’ was an invisible member of the family for decades, stepping into the role often played by the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus, but without any specific date. When a bit of mischief was needed, a trail of clues was discovered to follow for fun. Larry was, of course, never actually seen, but both his children and grandchildren narrated encounters where he was ” just over there.”
Davis was a long-time presence in the History Department at Cal State University at Northridge, and he was lauded by many of his former students who went on to become teachers themselves. His work with the Natchez Foundation resulted in the Historic Court House Records Project in Natchez, Mississippi. This was a monumental initiative that preserved invaluable legal records documenting the roots of white supremacy in the American South.
After retiring from his academic career, Davis became a foundational pillar of Culver City Residents for Peace, urging neighbors and elected officials alike not to remain silent in the face of human suffering.
In his own words, Davis wrote: “We can love and cherish each other, and while we may never fully understand one another, we can try. We must try. That is the essence of our humanity, our commonality.”
The phone alert, which continued to interrupt occasionally while people shared their memories, began to cause laughter rather than concern. The missing elder may not have been physically present, but like Larry the Leprechaun, he was there.
Judith Martin-Straw
